Everyone crowded around Ryosuke, voicing their dissatisfaction about him secretly doing extra practice. Knowing he was in the wrong, Ryosuke didn't argue. He just pouted, looking dejected.
Over on Aobajosai's side, Oikawa leaned toward Iwaizumi and said with a sly grin, "Ryosuke's probably playing today. Tell Hanamaki and Matsukawa to mark him closely."
This was Oikawa's highest level of treatment—usually reserved only for Ushijima.
Shinji Watari looked at him curiously. "That serious? Mark him one-on-one?"
Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. "No joke. You'll see once he's on the court."
After warming up in the waiting area for about twenty minutes, both sides began heading onto the court one after another.
When Oikawa saw Ryosuke step out wearing the libero jersey, his vision went dark.
What?! Ryosuke's playing libero? Then we can't even target him!
Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchanged a look, both grim-faced.
If a coach dared to move a middle blocker to the libero position during a match, it could only mean one thing—his receiving was even stronger than his blocking.
The look in Oikawa's eyes grew more serious. This was going to be a tough fight.
The match began with the captains drawing for serve.
Ushijima stepped forward and unconsciously glanced back. A whole group of people were looking at him with sympathetic expressions. He felt a little stifled.
He reached out and drew the lot without much enthusiasm. As expected, serve went to Aobajosai.
Oikawa burst into wild laughter. "Ahh, Ushiwaka, your luck really isn't great, huh? Hahahahaha—hic!" He laughed so hard he started hiccupping.
Ushijima sighed and walked back quietly.
For some reason, Ryosuke felt like he could see a hint of grievance and frustration on Ushijima's face. He wanted to laugh—but didn't dare. His expression froze awkwardly, twisting his delicate features.
He tried to pat Ushijima's shoulder, only to realize he was far too tall. In the end, he settled for patting his arm.
"Captain, don't worry! I won't let Oikawa-senpai score a single point!"
Ushijima's expression improved slightly.
The whistle blew, and both teams took their positions.
Ryosuke quietly considered how to receive this serve.
He had seen Oikawa's serve before. It was similar to Ushijima-senpai's, but faster and without spin. It should actually be a bit easier to handle.
If Oikawa heard that, he would definitely shout, "I hate you geniuses the most!"
On the sidelines, Reon narrowed his eyes. Ryosuke had spent so long polishing his blocking that people had nearly forgotten—his true weapon was his receive.
He suddenly recalled that freshmen entrance match, the suffocating feeling of being completely shut down.
Semi, who had always clashed with Oikawa, wore a wicked grin, practically radiating dark energy.
Ryosuke could finally go torment someone else. Oikawa, prepare to be punished.
Oikawa looked at his teammates seriously. "Today, I trust all of you."
It was as if Aobajosai had been given some mysterious buff—they instantly snapped into match mode.
Oikawa turned, tossed the ball high, took a few running steps, and leaped fiercely into the air like a bamboo shoot bursting upward.
His palm sliced through the air, sending the ball flying toward Shiratorizawa's court.
Reon muttered, "Why do these guys look so skinny but have endless stamina?"
Ryosuke fixed his eyes on the incoming ball and made his judgment almost instantly. Out. There was no way it was brushing the line—it was aimed right at him.
He sidestepped cleanly. "Out!"
"Whistle—!"
"Oh! Nice judgment!" Semi grinned, ruffling Ryosuke's hair.
"What?! I actually messed up?! Aaaah! Sorry!" Oikawa grabbed his hair and howled.
Hanamaki said to Matsukawa, "Told you. His first serve today was definitely going out. Strutting around like a peacock—you'd think he was trying to attract a mate."
Matsukawa silently covered Hanamaki's mouth.
Iwaizumi picked up a volleyball and slammed it solidly against Oikawa's head. "Focus, Trash-kawa!"
Oikawa nodded pitifully.
Shiratorizawa scored and rotated to serve. Ushijima walked calmly to the service line with the ball.
"Captain, let's go!"
"Get three points off this!"
"Bring it on!!"
Ushijima gave a calm nod. The whistle sounded.
He stood completely still.
On Aobajosai's side, tension snapped tight. Not until the eighth second did Ushijima strike the ball precisely on time.
Watari choked and cursed under his breath as he chased it down, barely managing a shaky first touch.
"Nice receive, Watari!"
Oikawa genuinely thought it was impressive. Ushijima's serve wasn't something just anyone could dig, let alone turn into a usable first pass.
Yahaba quickly moved to adjust the ball.
Oikawa analyzed the block in an instant.
Triple block. Goshiki and Tendo in the center, Semi closing in from the side.
Oikawa immediately targeted Goshiki, giving a quick feint—fake set, real spike—trying to trick the poor kid.
Unexpectedly, Goshiki didn't bite. He braced his arms tightly, wedged between Semi and Tendo without hesitation.
Oikawa had no choice but to force a second attack.
Just as Ryosuke predicted, that second touch could only fall to the right rear of the middle blocker.
He received it cleanly.
Oikawa frowned at Goshiki. What was going on? Wasn't this kid supposed to be the simple, easy-to-fool type?
Ryosuke shifted his weight onto his left foot and, in a split second, sent up a perfect set for a direct spike.
It landed exactly above Goshiki's head.
Goshiki's eyes sparkled. Without hesitation, he jumped and smashed it down.
This was something unique to the genius libero and the little ace—no one else could replicate it.
Goshiki clenched his fist. "Wooooah! Ryosuke, you're amazing! That ball went shua right over my head, then I cua jumped up, and bang—point! That was awesome!"
Semi tilted his head. "What language is that?"
Tendo scratched his cheek. "It's communication between single-celled organisms."
The match continued. For Aobajosai, losing two points right at the start felt like a dimensional drop.
Oikawa could clearly sense something different about Shiratorizawa this time. The feeling of danger in his chest kept growing heavier.
On the bench, Yamagata laughed loudly beside Reon. "Did you see Oikawa's face? Total disbelief."
He meant the expression Oikawa wore when Goshiki hadn't fallen for the trick.
Reon pulled Yamagata upright before he laughed himself off his chair. "If Goshiki couldn't see through that, Kawanishi and Ryosuke would've killed him."
Poor Goshiki was Ryosuke's favorite sparring partner. Anytime Ryosuke came up with something new, he dragged Goshiki along to test it. When Ryosuke wanted to slack off, he especially liked playing that way. Goshiki had suffered terribly during that period.
Now Oikawa's half-hearted little performance couldn't fool him anymore.
On the court, Shiratorizawa maintained a steady two-point lead.
Neither side had broken the balance yet.
When Ryosuke cleanly received Oikawa's serve for the sixth time, Oikawa frantically raked his fingers through his hair.
"Aaaah! This is so annoying! Damn it, Ryosuke! Why didn't you tell us you were this good at receives?!"
Ryosuke stood across the net, looking innocent. "You never asked."
An invisible arrow pierced Oikawa's fragile heart.
Yunohama shook his head. Another poor soul backstabbed by Ryosuke's natural airheadedness.
Coach Irihata called a timeout. He said nothing, simply sat there calmly, eyes half-closed as if dozing.
Oikawa began seriously analyzing Ryosuke.
If this were the old Shiratorizawa, they might still have a chance. But now, with Ryosuke added into the mix—and that Goshiki kid not exactly easy to deal with either—
Shiratorizawa's entire style had changed.
Damn it.
Oikawa cracked his fingers anxiously.
Iwaizumi saw him sitting alone in the corner, deep in thought. He stayed silent, but in his mind echoed the words Oikawa had once used to comfort Ryosuke.
Oikawa, I hope you can figure it out yourself.
The timeout ended.
Both sides returned to the court. Oikawa adjusted his expression and instantly slipped back into game mode, playing while constantly scanning the court, already calculating his next countermeasure.
...
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